For long, breathless moments she was overcome by the feel of his hard muscles, his rampant desire, his lips on her cheek, and her own unbridled response. For long moments she savored the feel of him, and those thrilling, wild sensations that only he could inspire. She wanted so much to give in, to pretend...
But she didn't lose control this time. She retained the painful knowledge that this would lead them nowhere, would serve no purpose other than brief—albeit wonderful— gratification. And that was not something she wanted to get used to, when he had no intention of turning this into a habit for either one of them.
So she said the one thing that would stop him, before she lost the will to say it. And she spoke in a tone guaranteed to get results.
"Bojik!"
The dog growled instantly. Vasili hadn't even noticed the wolfhound, since it had been curled up on the other side of the horses. But he knew now why Alexandra hadn't been worried about being left alone with him.
He leaned away from her to say, "You don't play fair, sweetheart."
"Neither do you, Petroff."
Hearing that, he grinned, understanding that it hadn't been easy for her to resist him. She'd had a hard time just getting that reply out. And he wasn't going to let them both suffer when a little charm and skillful persuasion would crumble her defenses—or so he thought.
As his luck would have it, he didn't get the chance to find out. His name was shouted from the front of the stable, and he recognized that blustering tone as belonging to his friend Serge Lehar, whom he would have been delighted to see any time—except now.
Stifling a sound of frustration, he called out, "I'll be there in a moment, Serge."
To which a reply came. "They're as magnificent as Lazar said."
"A friend of mine," Vasili said in a whisper to Alexandra. "He's come to admire your horses, apparently."
"I won't sell to him if he asks."
The unexpected statement didn't surprise Vasili as much as the stubbornness he heard behind it. "Why not?"
"Because I remember every horse I've sold and still think of them often, and think of their owners caring for them. I won't want to think of one belonging to a friend of yours, because I want no reminder of you once I leave here."
Considering what had just passed between them, he found her reasoning amusing. "You don't think we're going to be married, do you? You've never really thought so."
That might have been true a few weeks back, but the hopelessness Alexandra had carried with her into town today had destroyed that confidence. She wasn't going to admit that to him, though.
"I know what kind of man you are, Petroff," she told him plainly. "A lecher like you Married? You'll panic at the last minute and do what you should have done before you took me from my home."
"It's interesting that you should think so," he replied, his fingers brushing softly against her cheek before he stepped back even farther. "I rather think we're going to be married—or not. But the decision won't be made at the altar, I can promise you that."
He left her with those cryptic words. He could have told her what his mother intended. He could have told her that if she didn't cooperate and learn some proper behavior, she'd get her wish, that there would be no marriage. But he didn't tell her. He left it to fate, and he was damned if he knew why.
31
The next morning, Vasili found himself in his mother's stable again, but with Stefan this time. "You were right/' Stefan was saying as he moved to another stall down the aisle. "I've never seen finer blooded whites. Are you sure she wouldn't sell me one for Tanya?"
"I know my Alex," Vasili replied. "She's as stubborn as a mule. I'd love to have one for myself, but I knew from the beginning that I didn't dare ask. She doesn't even know how much I admire her babies, and I certainly wouldn't let her know how much I want Prince Micha."
"But you, cousin, are a mere count, while I happen to be a king. With all the headaches the title gives me, it ought to afford me a few benefits to go with it."
Stefan might be teasing, but Vasili took the subject seriously. "Don't count on it. It she wasn't impressed by my being related to royalty, what makes you think she'll be impressed by you? And I'd really hate to see you ask, Stefan, and get told no."
Stefan chuckled. "Don't make it sound as if it never happens. I'll have you know Tanya has no qualms about telling me no quite frequently."
"Ah, but Tanya has special privileges. I never heard the rest of us daring to so offend you, Your Majesty."
For that, Vasili got a punch that produced only a half-joking wince. "And who are you trying to impress with that bull? Shall I name you times and dates when you have refused to do what I ordered?"
"Only in your best interest."
Stefan snorted. Vasili grinned and rubbed his shoulder. They had spent the morning together, catching up. But Lazar had gotten to Stefan last night, and he'd filled him in on a number of things Vasili would rather not have had repeated. As a result, he'd been suffering quite a bit of ribbing this morning, and Stefan had decided he had to meet this "little barbarian" who thought one of his elite personal guards was no more than a court dandy.
But arriving at the house, Vasili had found that although Alexandra had sat through several hours of his mother's lecturing this morning, she'd finally escaped to the stable. And at the stable, he had been told she and the Razin brothers were exercising some of her horses at the nearby park.
"I suppose I can wait until you marry the girl," Stefan said now, "then buy one of the mares from you."
"Not a chance. //1 end up marrying her, the horses will remain solely hers."
"That's not the way Lazar tells it."
"Lazar knows damn well I didn't mean what I told her about selling them, and you know me better than that, Stefan. Besides, my life would be in danger if I made any claim to those horses, and don't think I'm joking. I'm not."
"She can't be that—well, never mind." Stefan shrugged. "I suppose if I want one, I can buy one from her father, as Lazar did."
"Hers are better," Vasili said with an unmistakable note of pride.
"Don't rub it in, when you've assured me I can't have one. Now, if I'm going to meet the lady, I suppose we should take a ride through that park on the way back to the— Jesus, is that her?"
Vasili swung around, and he had to wonder just how long Alexandra had been standing behind them. Considering some of the things he'd said to Stefan, he had color mounting his cheeks. Yet her expression was completely bland. She couldn't have heard anything, or she'd be showing some definite signs of anger.
Stefan's surprise was for obvious reasons. He'd been told she wore nothing but breeches, but seeing a woman of her attributes so abundantly displayed would give any man pause. She had removed her coat and was holding it over one shoulder with a finger. Her other hand was thrust in a pocket. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold outside. And as usual, long strands of her ash-blond hair had escaped from under her hat. She looked adorably disreputable—for a baroness.
"Come here, Alex, and meet my illustrious cousin," Vasili said.
She stepped closer, though she did so rather slowly. "Do I call you Your Majesty, or, since we're apparently going to be related through marriage, do I call you Stefan?"
"I would prefer Stefan."
"What about curtsying?"
Vasili answered. "Without a skirt? Perhaps a bow would suit you better."
She didn't rise to the bait, and Stefan said quickly, "Neither is necessary. I've been looking forward to meeting you, Alexandra. My wife is even more eager and has invited you to come to the palace this afternoon."
"I'll be bus—"
"She'll be there," Vasili cut in, and his look was full of warning for her not to contradict him.
She didn't bother, though she had no intention of complying. It would be too embarrassing to maintain her rustic ruse at the Cardinian court. Besides, just as she had held herself aloof from his friends on
the trip, she intended to maintain a distance from his royal relatives. At least she would try. But she wasn't crazy. She had as much healthy wariness for royalty as anyone with any sense did. And King Stefan of Cardinia, with those scars on his cheek and his golden eyes, which were so much more prominent than Vasili's, would have intimidated her even if he weren't a king. The less she had to do with him and his wife, the better.
He must have sensed her wariness, or was so accustomed to inspiring it that he had made it a habit to keep introductions brief. He took her hand—he had to lift it from her pocket—and kissed the knuckles, saying, "It is my hope that I will soon welcome you to the family, Alexandra. But now I must return to the palace, though I would like to view your stallions first. I assume they have returned with you?"
She merely nodded, and with a parting smile, Stefan headed outside to where the stallions were being walked after their brisk ride. She stared after him, uncomfortable with the feeling that she could like him if she let herself. It took her a moment to realize that Vasili hadn't followed him out.
She wished that weren't the case. She wasn't at all happy with him at the moment, though when had she ever been? But now she was confused by what she'd overheard. He'd lied about intending to sell her horses. He'd concealed from her his admiration for them, and that he was as much a connoisseur of fine horseflesh as Lazar was. Had he guessed that it would raise him in her estimation if she'd known, that she could never hate anyone who loved horses as much as she did?
She wasn't going to mention what she'd heard. She needed time to figure out his motives for deceiving her. And she had to wonder what else about him wasn't true. Even hearing him call her "my Alex," which was what had stopped her in her approach, made no sense to her, and she was alarmed by the thrilling pleasure it had given her.
Refusing to examine her feelings for him, she could only conclude that it had been so much easier when she had been able to hold him in complete contempt.
"You'll have to dig out one of those dresses you claim to have for this afternoon," he told her.
"No, I won't. Convey my apologies—"
"You're going, Alex. You don't refuse an invitation from a queen any more than you would one from a king. Even you have to know that."
Again she didn't rise to the bait, which his condescending tone only made more tempting. "Your mother is determined to monopolize my mornings with nonsense, Petroff, leaving me no time to waste on visiting. You can tell that to your queen."
"I'll tell her no such thing. Did you lose your temper with my mother?"
"No, I was kind enough to humor her, though I don't know how long I'll be able to keep my patience. For now, she thinks she made some progress."
"Did she?"
Alexandra snorted. "What do you think?"
He grinned at her. "I think you will do what you want, despite well-meaning advice—except for today. Be ready and dressed appropriately,
Alex, by two o'clock. I'll pick you up in my carriage—"
"No—"
"Or Stefan's soldiers can escort you."
32
Alexandra compromised. She was ready to leave at the appointed hour, but she was dressed in her usual attire. She had an excuse for Vasili which wasn't exactly the truth, but she was sure she could make him believe it.
And she gave it to him the moment he arrived, before his expression turned too thunderous. "It's your fault, Petroff." Her tone was deliberately accusatory. "Not allowing me enough time to pack properly. It's no wonder all my gowns are ruined. Even your mother was scandalized when I told her how you rushed me into leaving with less than a day's notice. You owe me a new wardrobe."
That bit about her telling his mother was an underhanded tactic and it actually had him blushing. Why had he never considered that Alexandra's frankness could extend to his own outrageous behavior on the trip? She could, if she realized it, win Maria completely over to her side, and he'd never hear the end of it if that happened. But that wasn't what
Alexandra wanted. She had to be aware of that.
For now, he addressed only her demand for clothes. "If you were hoping I would balk at supplying you with a new wardrobe, I'll have to disappoint you. It will be my pleasure. But for today, couldn't my mother give you something . . . ?" At her lifted brow, Vasili was forced to correct himself. "No, I suppose you are too dissimilar in size." But then he snapped, "Dammit Alex, stop looking so pleased about this! It doesn't cancel your trip to the palace, not when the queen is waiting."
"I didn't imagine it would."
"Then you're probably thinking this is going to embarrass me, but you're wrong," he said as he ushered her out the door. "You're the only one who is going to feel conspicuous, dressed as you are. I happen to enjoy looking at you no matter what you're wearing."
Vasili hadn't meant to say that, couldn't imagine where it had come from. But before he put his foot further in his mouth, he dropped the subject completely. And because Alexandra had been disturbed by his remark as well, both of them were silent during their trip to the palace, which was fortunately only a few blocks away.
Alexandra had been to a reception at the Czar's palace in St. Petersburg, but nothing could have prepared her for the opulence of the Cardinian palace. It covered an entire city square and was three stories high; the halls alone contained more solid gold in frames and statues than she'd ever imagined to see in a lifetime. Every floor was polished marble, every window adorned in rich velvet or silk, every wall lamp tiered with crystal, all in quiet elegance rather than the Russian preference for grandiose display.
It wouldn't have been so bad if the long hallways they had to traverse had been empty, but they weren't. Besides the liveried servants standing on duty outside doorways, there were courtiers in abundance, coming and going, gathered in groups talking, all in their fancy court finery. And every single one seemed to stare rudely at Alexandra, either in avid curiosity or in outright disdain.
But even that wouldn't have been so bad if the ladies, one after the other, hadn't greeted or hailed Vasili with such pleasure, and too many of them did so with an intimate familiarity that spoke of past association. Alexandra was able to remain quiet the first two times Vasili was stopped, because he broke away quickly with the excuse that the queen was waiting for them.
But the third time she saw a woman reaching for him to detain him, Alexandra stepped between them and declared, "He's soon to be married, madam. You can still talk to him, but from now on you will refrain from putting your hands on him, however innocent your intent."
Vasili was whisking her away from the openmouthed woman before she had got the last word out. "And here I thought you were actually going to behave yourself," he said.
"It's going to get worse if they don't keep their hands off you."
"I suppose you're going to tell me now that only you have the right to touch me."
"I see we understand each other."
Then when the hell are you going to start? he wondered, but to her, he kept in form by complaining, "You're pushing it, Alex."
"You were given fair warning, Petroff."
"So were you," he reminded her, and was pleased to note that whatever she'd been about to reply to that, she thought better of it. "And," he added, "you'll have to deal with my mother when she hears about this, and I can guarantee you that she will. I don't think she'll accept jealousy as an excuse for scandal."
"You know very well jealousy doesn't come into this," Alexandra said crossly.
"Certainly, but no one else is going to believe that, sweetheart, least of all my mother. And she happens to be of the old school that agrees a wife should ignore her husband's little indiscretions, and jealousy is the height of foolishness."
"I'm not jealous!"
"I think enough people heard you—but they still won't believe it."
"Now who's pushing it?" she gritted out.
He chuckled, amazed that he was actually enjoying this verbal battle, probably b
ecause, for once, he was coming out ahead with her.
"I would suggest you contain that temper of yours, Alex. You're about to meet the queen."
"Thanks to you, I'll probably end up insulting her," she retorted.
"I hate to say it, but what you're wearing is going to insult her."
"Damn you, Petroff!"
"Shh. We've arrived."
They had indeed, and he apparently didn't have to be announced, because he opened the door to the queen's receiving chamber and walked right in, the guards at the door merely nodding at him. And since he was still holding Alexandra's arm from when he'd forcibly pulled her away from that woman, she didn't get the opportunity to hang back so she could try to compose herself.
The room wasn't as large as she might have expected, and the three women in it were informally dressed in day gowns that were obviously of fine quality. Two of the women were Tanya's favorite ladies-in-waiting, Alexandra was to learn, both married and in love with their husbands as the queen was with hers, which was probably why Alexandra sensed immediately that she wouldn't have to do battle here, and she began to relax.
The two ladies merely nodded at Vasili and Alexandra on their way out, but Tanya hadn't seen Vasili since his return, and her greeting in English was warm as she approached him with open arms. It was automatic for him to accept her hug, which he started to do until he recalled who was with him and backed off in alarm.
Alexandra noticed, and said in English for the queen's benefit, "She can."
He didn't have to ask her what she was talking about, but after the alarm he'd just experienced, he was annoyed enough to demand, "Why can she?"
"Because she's happily married and doesn't have designs on you."
Tanya lifted her brows. Vasili said, "You don't want to know, Tanya, believe me."
Alexandra shot him a baleful look for that. Tanya laughed and said, "Maybe I don't. So introduce us instead." He did, and after a moment of studying Alexandra, she added, "You're luckier than you deserve, Vasili. She's beautiful."
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